


What You Found Amongst The Pages

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [43]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Age Difference, Backstory, Bees, Books, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Diary/Journal, Doofus Rick Being Sweet, Drawings, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Illustrations, Journal Entries, Kissing, Love Confessions, Metaphors, Musical Instruments, Old Age, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Quilts, Rain, Sweaters, Symbolism, Tea, Thunderstorms, Time Skips, Time differences, cried while writing this, exterminators, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: DWC one prompt fit for all "Books".In this fic, while the reader is waiting for Zeta-7 to come home, she searches for a book to read, but finds something else





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to finish this fic for quite a while, and I'm proud of this work.

The first rains of the season were not the gentle trickle you had expected, but came in the form of a blustering storm.

Fortunately, you were already at Zeta-7s house, and as the wind howled outside, you were curled up on the couch. In the softness of its upholstery, you caught his scent, and all you had to keep you warm was one of Ricks knitted blue sweaters, a cup of decaf earl grey, and a quilt draped over your lap. Even though the days were warming up, and the world was settling, and stretching into the renewal of the season, there were still small bouts of cool air which give you a chill, but at least you were here; the place which was a well of comfort. Rick had called earlier, and told you he'd be home soon, right after finishing up a job a few dimensions away, and told you to make yourself comfortable. Though, it would have been more comfortable with him around.

You thought about flipping through the channels, but you had heard once that TV’s could explode or something if there was a power surge; most likely an old wives tale, but you didn't dare risk it. So, you thought that now was a good time for a book instead.

* * *

In Rick's house, there weren't many places which were off limits; leaving you free to explore. You'd say he was overly generous in giving you such allowances, considering most people tended to have their private spaces, but not him; or if he did, then you probably didn't know about them. You had a terrible habit of touching things, of wanting to know of their texture, and how heavy they were for no good reason. And with all the stuff he made and collected, you were never in want of entertainment. Everywhere, there was always something to which could hold your attention whether it was a plant, a device, or the random knick knack of not so long ago.

In essence, it was a place well lived in. There were the places he liked to sit, the areas he liked to eat, the places where his presence was so concentrated, you felt comforted amidst them. Was it idyllic? Perhaps. Romanticized? More likely than not.

Still, that was what made it all fun. Yet, danger could come at anytime, and disrupt your illusion.The crystal which hung about your neck was a constant reminder that you had to be vigilant if something didn't seem right. And while you felt generally safe, and the circuitry of the defense and surveillance systems were hidden, there had been times when you had felt an inkling of something, but as the saying goes ‘out of sight, out of mind’. There were times he gently reminded you to be cautious around the garage, and of the devices laid hidden in the spare cookie jars; you listened, even if there were a few times you were tempted to play with them. 

Curiosity, was a wonderful, joyous, but dangerous emotion.

* * *

Amidst your search, you found that the varying rooms and spaces had a mood to them.

Like the room where musical instruments were on display, and music memorabilia covered its walls; it was nostalgic, but personal. You saw his precious yellow ukulele sat on the desk, next to a pile of sheet music; the top sheet containing the notes to a Spanish love song. You were tempted to look through them, but part of you thought that it wouldn't be a good idea. There were also small framed photos of a young Zeta-7 playing guitar in his bedroom; you'd recognize that toothy grin and bowl haircut anywhere.

From what you gleaned, he had always been lanky, which was no surprise. Oh, but seeing him playing in a band was new. Standing with two other band mates who were obviously alien, they all seemed happy, playing games, practicing, and performing for prestigious guests. You wondered what happened to them, or why Rick wasn't in a band anymore. Yet, that was a story that you'd have to hear from him another time.

You didn't stay long enough to examine the instruments more closely. And closing the door, you moved along; it was not yet a welcomed space. You did however, feel wistful in between the rooms, especially in the hallways. Along its walls, with all its pictures and paintings, you were reminded of the galleries of your youth; the ones you visited after school. You never told your father about these visits, but at the time when you fancied the idea of becoming an artist, you had observed the pictures displayed on ghostly white walls, but found no pleasure in them; seeing them as vulgar representations of one's hunger and greed.

Up until the point you met Zeta-7, your opinions on art had been low, but there was much beauty to be found in them. And having spent many happy hours observing him bring to life the inclinations of his heart, whether literal or metaphorical, you learned of freedom, of honesty, and fear. Opening your heart to the world's which were found amongst the canvas, you removed those high opinions. Oceans and landscapes, space, creatures, and figures; he painted what he knew, what he wanted, as well as what he wished, and dreamed.

At the end of the hallway, there were a few new ones, but you didn't know what to make of them. Scenes done in a impressionistic style, all seemed to be somewhat connected, and told a story. There is a man who is given a rose, whose stem climbs up his arm, until the bud rests above his heart. And while the world changes around him, and the man begins to age, the rose remains a bud still. Then, one day when the man is very old, the vines began to hinder his movement, and almost choke him to death, but then there is an illumination in the world, and the bud finally blooms. 

Hmm, it made you wonder what he was thinking when he painted them.

* * *

Across the upstairs bathroom was another room where the air was stale, and items were scattered about the floor and shelves. There was something youthful about the way the sheets were rumpled, and the action figures were lined up next to one another. Zeta-7 wasn't the type to be messy except for when one of experiments went wrong, or when he was in the middle of piecing together his ideas. Small socks were balled up under the bed, and across the room a stack of textbooks sat on the writing desk. Behind the desk hung a world map, where red pushpins marked mountainous terrains, as well as areas which were known for their beauty. 

You had an inkling of whose room this was, but it wasn't until you saw the yellow shirt which hung out of a hamper that you knew; this must have been Stoltz Mortys room. Stuck in time, as though waiting for is owner to return, Rick must have left it as it was as his way of coping. For your part, you understood a few things about coping, how draining it can be when you want something to make you feel better, even if it means to pretend nothing happened at all.

* * *

Finally, you had come across a room where there was nothing but books upon books lining its walls. In the center of the room was a recliner, beside it a small table with a lamp. Perhaps this was the room he came to when reading for pleasure. You lit the fireplace considering the rain brought a chill, and began to peruse the shelves. 

Medical textbooks lined the top shelf; these you avoided. Unmarked journals took up three shelves worth, each one for a year in his life; these you were curious about, but you also avoided. Rick seemed to have a little bit from every genre; belles lettres, American classics, foreign language books, mystery, science fiction, romance, self help; everything that one could want for a private collection.

Hmm, for a man of science, you were surprised that he had so many romance books. There were the classic Jane Austen to contemporary romance of Jojo Moyes. Browsing through a few of them, and you found that his copy of Persuasion was well worn, and there were many lines which were underlined. Your favorite line being found in chapter 23 which said:  _“Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”_

Oh Rick, a man after your own heart; this was your favorite line too. Did he know that? You replaced the well loved book on the shelf, and ran your hands along the spines of other older novels. Careful with leather-bound volumes, and delighting in the picture books, you had more than enough books to sate your need to run away with fictional characters and worlds. However, your eyes kept going back to the journals. 

And after a while you couldn't resist anymore, and chose one from thirty years ago.


	2. A Man And His Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the spring of 1988

You recognized his wonderful mind at work by the shift of the mess of cursive, to the illustrative, ornamental neatness. Set in the spring of 1988, you could hear his goodnaturedly, loving voice speak alongside your own head voice. 

_“I heard a buzzing sound while I was throwing away the garbage last night, and saw a dark cloud fly up into the persimmon tree. What I found the next morning was none other than a colony of bees. For whatever reason, their queen has chosen to take shelter among my favorite tree in garden it didn't matter; I was beyond delighted, for I had always wanted a reason to observe them more closely.”_

What followed were pages upon pages of his observations, as well as detailed drawings of their anatomy. It was fascinating looking at all their drawings, as well as the polaroids he had taken of them. It seemed they caused a great deal of good, from pollinating his flowers to producing honey which took on the flavor of hybrid citrus trees. For a while, everything in his life went on as usual, with brief mentions of his bumbles.

_“The bees have found their way into the house, and sometimes come in to cool themselves before returning outside.”_

Various stories stemmed out from the mishaps which occurred, like the time when he accidently got stung in the ear. Or the time he went inside to retrieve a spoon, only to find they had taken his cake hostage. A great deal of his tales were amusing, but there was also trouble in paradise. It started with the complaint of a neighbor, who claimed the bees were a threat to the community. Zeta-7 had tried to explain why they were beneficial, and how the flowers in the neighborhood were flourishing, but they would not listen to reason. 

_“At some point, I fear I might have to move them, but I don't mind, cause they are my friends, and I want them to be safe and happy.”_

Oh, but Rick he did mind, in his own way. It was what he didn't say, which made you believe that he cared more then he let on. Why, they were more than friends, they were his family. Being the genius he was, he made a device which allowed him to communicate with them, which helped somewhat with trying to keep them in line, and out of harm's way. For their part, they carried on as bees would, though with caution, and for a little while longer, there was peace.

_“They know when I come home, and they come to sit upon my hand when I am out in the garden. They understand me in a way that I cannot understand myself. Creatures of such magnificent design, they all have their identifiable markings which make it easier to call them by name. I help them with their troubles, and they help me in their natural way. I don't know what I will do without them, but for now they are the highlight of my day.”_

You continued reading on, finding there was much of the same from day to day, until trouble seemed to come up again.

_“One of the neighbors must have called an exterminator. I watched as they were preparing themselves, and I took action; I couldn't bear them destroying my darling bumbles. And I didn't know what else to do, but to isolate them in a bubble, apologize to the best of my ability, and send them to a forest far away. I will miss them, but what else could have been done?”_

For the next few pages, all that he wrote about was how he longed to see them again, and how lonely he was without their company.


	3. When There Was Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps you weren't the only one

You skipped to a random section, later in the year, around the end of summer. 

_“I'm going on a mission today, and I hope I can be useful.”_

Skipping a few more pages, you stopped when his words began to slant and almost run into each other, like cursive, without style, but detailed, trying to keep up with his train of thought.

_“I don't know what I did wrong. Last night, we ate, drank, played games, and I thought I was making friends. Everything was going so well, and we were having so much fun, but it changed. I don't know why, but all the guys hate me now.”_

You went back a page or two, trying to understand the context and reason for the change in the other Ricks behavior, and found that hours before the party, Zeta-7 led the investigation, and had become the favorite among the clean up crew. However, while taking down the details of the garage, he had discovered someone had tampered with the evidence. And when he told the boss, the others were reprimanded. Your conclusion was that your kind Rick must have fallen for the false charm of the others, and in order to cover their tracks, they ruined his reputation by doing something that made almost everyone lose respect for him; the rumor about eating poop. Returning to the mess of writing, his solemn words become fearful as he described the unwanted advances of one of the guard Rick's. 

_“I needed to get away, afraid of what Rick would do to me. He wanted to do unspeakable things to me, and with the excuse of fetching beer and snacks, I got permission from the boss to leave.“_

Illustrations of back roads, random alleys, and flowers filled pages and pages, very rough, as though it were done in a hurry.

_“No one cared, and I wandered the streets with no direction in mind. Every house on the block was about the same, with little to no distinction between them. In this town, where no one knows my name, I felt a loneliness which knew no end. Sidewalks taunted my very steps, and the order of things was in such a way as to which I could only describe as chaotic. Rick, poor the Rick who of this dimension, he too must have known what it was like to stand in a town without pity.”_

* * *

_"On my way back, paying no mind to the houses or people, a voice called out to me. A young girl, of about six or seven, playing in a garden, stopped, and asked me why I was so sad. I didn't know what to say, but asked her why she thought I was, and it was the darndest thing. She said, ‘I can feel your sadness, and it hurts me too.’ and I apologized, for it wasn't my intention. She smiled up at me, and made me promise that to find something to smile about; maybe tomorrow, I will see the sun come shining through for me.”_

Thoughts of the song Smile came to mind, and you wondered if he'd really take to heart the words of a child. You couldn't help but read on. 

_“The next time I saw her again, much time had passed, for a day in my dimension was ten in hers. As before, she was lovely, and kind, and she invited me in for tea and cookies. Her father greeted me at the door, and shook my hand. And that day, we talked of everything and nothing, and I discovered a few things. We were kindred spirits, who had somehow come together, and they made me forget everything; of myself, of the world, of the very multiverse which was disposed to despise me. I found friends of my own.”_

Two days later, he visited again.

_“She is about my age now, and like before, I was welcomed. We ate cookies and cakes, drank earl grey under the…..”_

You paused, a tight pang building in your chest. You weren't sure if you wanted to read on. If you did, you might find out things that will change your perception of him, but it was too late to turn back now. Wiping at your eyes, you picked up where you left off. 

_“We ate cookies and cakes, drank earl grey under the moonlit night. The sweet perfume of jasmine was intoxicating, and the pleasant conversation invigorating. Her father had gone to bed ages ago, and it was only the two of us with hearts full of laughter, and smiles for days. I had not anticipated how brilliant she would be, how respectable, and lovely. And yet, even as she confessed all the words which were etched upon her heart, I could not respond to them. Yet, she was so very good to me, and remained my friend despite all this.”_

So, there hadn't exactly been someone else, but the thought of someone else. You couldn't blame her, neither could you completely dislike this creature of the pages; she reminded you of yourself. A few more days passed, and he returned with gifts, wanting to properly apologize, but the slant of words began again. 

_“Stupid me! So very stupid! I should not have stayed away. Oh, if only I had been there. My dear, dear friend, her sadness is my sadness, and now there is no one else in this world. All her friends, and family were long gone now, and with the case being over, I remained in her home, and tended to her medical needs until the end of her days.”_

* * *

_“And as she laid in the sheets as white as pale, ashen skin, she confessed that she loved me still, but she was old, much older then a man of my years should care for. And while I could not respond to her feelings, and she forgave me for the very last time, I confessed she was, and will always be my friend. Returning to my home dimension, after what seemed like years, had only been but a few minutes. My house which in which for years I had lived, was now just a place where I slept. I believe it will be sometime before I may call it home once again, but I know there are those who like me know of heartache, death, hope, and struggle. And like them, I must find a way to cope, and find where it truly is I belong.”_

You replaced the journal back in the shelf. There was so much you had wanted to know, but in this invasion of privacy, you learned too much. Still, now you knew, there had been someone; at least a dear friend who had cared for him dearly. Wiping away your tears, you picked up The Princess Bride so that you could laugh your sorrows away.

* * *

By the time Rick came home, it was halfway through the night. He called, you answered, and he smiled at your book of choice. “That's a-a very funny book.”

“I know, but there are some very serious parts as well. I never would've thought I'd see this here.”

“Oh, I ugh - I-I bought it after I saw the movie.”

“You look tired,” you said, feeling the burn of guilt, though pushing it away. “really tired.”

“I-I am,” he yawned. “but not - not that much.”

“Come sit here, I can just get another chair.”

As he sat, he studied you, and with his figure half hidden by the shadows, you didn't see when he reached out, but you felt the strength of his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Y-y-you,” he said in a low, private voice. “I want you t-t-to sit here, with me.”

Your heart went furious, throat tightening with excitement. You could simply nod and sit there, not quite sure what he was about. It was some minutes before you found your voice again, and by this time, he too seemed ready to speak. “The sound of rain is s-s-so nice.”

“It sure is.”

“If I-I had known it would take so long, I'd have told you t-t-to see me in the morning.”

“It's okay, I didn't mind waiting.”

Another yawn escaped him. “Y-y-you don't?” 

“No, because you would come, and eventually I would see you.”

“What if - if I-I-I would have taken days, or weeks?”

“I would still wait, I have before.”

He lazily caressed your arms, his cool hands stealing away your warmth. “Even if - if I'm gone for years? How w-would you spend the time?”

You weren't sure where this line of questioning was going, and you began to worry if he had hidden cameras in this room, and if he saw you reading about his private thoughts. And after some time, you answered in your girlish voice.“I guess if there's no signs that you were returning or if I don't hear from you, then I'd worry about it, come to a resolution, and try to reach you. I'd try to contact someone you know, or look for clues, but I wouldn't give up. And in between the thoughts of you, of….. of our time together, I'll pick up the pieces and go on as usual. Though,” you smiled up at him, trying to smooth out his tiredness about his eyes, “I'd see you in everything, and search for you in everyone that I meet. I wouldn't…. there's no way I'd able to forget you.”

“It's,” he sighed. “it's been a-a long day. I'm sorry about all these - these weird questions.”

“Was it something the other Ricks said?” 

“Mhm.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“N-n-no,” he softened. “I'd - I would rather not. I'd rather appreciate how beautiful y-y-you are. You - you make me feel so young,” and holding you a fraction tighter, he chuckled. “and maybe if - if I hold on t-to you long enough, I'll go back in time. However, I-I know the reality of things. It's - it's unfortunate that I'm so old,” And pressing a light kiss behind your ear, which made you giggle, he admitted. “but I'm - I'm going t-t-to take care of you.”

“No Rick, we should take care of each other.”

And through his inadequacies, and yours, you two communicated through sight and touch, of what only souls knew what to say.


End file.
